


cut through these strings and open my wings

by orphan_account



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, i hope you're happy now vivien aRE YOU, i spent 3 days on this, yes this is based off the last five years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4200864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Repeat it for increased accuracy,” she used to say. “You can’t afford not to be rigorous when you’re playing with live ammo, Jake.”</p><p>(Jake and Amy and how the only thing they could do was love each other hard and let go.<br/>Or, the obligatory 'Last Five Years' AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [santiagostyle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/santiagostyle/gifts).



> i recommend you read this several times because there are interlocking ideas/words that are like callbacks to other moments buT do what you want tbh  
> i've also added numbers in case any of you want to read it in chronological order lol

**MAY 16, 2020** _(16)_

The ticking of the clock is steady and unending and the only thing that Jake can hear.

He reads the letter. Reads it, reads it, reads it again. Over and over, darkened eyes flickering across the inked words, hoping that perhaps something will be different the next time around. Over and over and over again. One more time, one more time, maybe something will change this time. Something always changes.

“Repeat it for increased accuracy,” she used to say. “You can’t afford not to be rigorous when you’re playing with live ammo, Jake.”

The ink is smudged with tears that don’t belong to him.

Jake’s heart is in his throat as he reads, disbelief welling up in his chest, trying desperately to wake up from whatever horrible nightmare he’s stuck in.

 _I tried, Jake,_ and oh, god, he can hear her somber voice in his head, reading it out, every icy syllable cutting deeper into his psyche: _I tried, but I just got stuck. We got the timing right once, but maybe that’s all it was ever meant to be._

_Everything just slid out of balance and we couldn’t get it back. It was beyond my control. I’m sorry._

“Beyond your control,” Jake breathes, and can’t find the strength to be indignant or angry or whatever you’re supposed to feel when the love of your life walks away from you, leaving nothing but a hastily penned letter.

“Beyond your control.”

There’s a loud pounding in his ears, persistent and thrumming and clashing with his heartbeat, _dum-dum-dum,_ like something out of one of those trashy horror movies they used to watch together and laugh at when the terrible actress got eaten by one of the similarly terrible zombies. Jake drops the letter onto the desk as though it’s burning him and sits back, staring blankly out of the window.

He should feel _something._

He doesn’t.

His entire body is just numb.

This must be what it really feels like to have your heart broken.

 

 **MAY 17, 2015** _(1)_

The light on Amy’s ceiling is flickering slightly, as it sometimes does, and usually she’d fix it as rigorously and thoroughly as she’s used to doing things, but all she can do is smile, bright and unassuming, numb with joy.

Jake, Jake, Jake.

The only thing she can think about is him, oh, gosh, how pathetic is that? They’ve worked together for years, and if you told her a few years ago that she’d be grinning into her bedsheets at the thought of kissing him, she’d probably laugh. And arrest you for possible drug possession.

Their kiss in the lock-up plays in her mind, over and over and over again. She relives it as many times as possible (for thoroughness, obviously) just in case there’s something, some sign that it wasn’t real, but it was _real._ He kissed her and she kissed him and oh! What a wonderful thought, that they finally did it. They got the timing right, for the first time.

There was Teddy and then there was Sophia and then there was them, just the two of them, in the low light, and her arms had been around his neck. How wonderful, how bright, what a beautiful thought.

She feels a little bit guilty, that she hasn’t paid more mind to the matter of Captain Holt and Gina leaving, but she feels all-consumed by him, as stupid as it sounds; for the first time in her life, Amy isn’t overthinking anything. All she knows is how she feels.

And, really, there’s no way to analyze that.

 

 **NOVEMBER 18, 2019** _(14)_

The first time he told her he liked to sit on their roof and look out at the city (and possibly do a Batman impression here and there), she’d laughed. But here they are now, sitting in the afternoon sun under an umbrella she insisted on putting up. (“Sunstroke is not a myth, Jake.”)

Amy is sitting next to him, clutching a coffee in her hand, and there’s something different about the way she’s holding herself. More prim, more proper, looking more serious than usual. There are lines on her face that weren’t there before. The months in Washington have been tough on her, he knows.

But whenever he looks at her, he knows exactly how he feels, and even if it’s not the same inferno that used to burn in his stomach back when – god, how long has it been? Almost five years, he thinks. But he knows how he feels. She makes it easy for him to figure that out.

“You’ll be back in the summer, though,” Jake says, putting a reassuring hand on hers. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine. A few months. That’s all. We’ve been through worse.”

“Yeah,” Amy says, sounding a little detached. “Just a few more months.”

Jake looks over at her and it takes a few moments for him to put a sentence together. “Look, if you’re worried about us, then – don’t be. I know it’s been hard, but I know we can make it work if we try hard enough. We’re Jake and Amy Peralta. We kick ass.”

“They call me Captain Santiago over at the precinct,” Amy says, and manages to smile. “Just so you know.”

“That cuts me deep,” Jake says, and there is a certain amount of levity absent from his tone, but he grins back anyway. “By the way – I told the squad you could drop by tomorrow. I mean, I know we didn’t discuss it, but – ”

“Actually,” Amy cuts in, and markedly avoids his gaze. “There’s this gala thing tomorrow – a really stupid thing, really, I’m sorry – and … I kind of have to be there. It starts at four tomorrow.”

Jake takes a leisurely moment to process the information, because it seems like she’s been going to a lot of galas and meetings and things lately – which isn’t a problem, of course, but – no. There’s no ‘but’. It’s fine, and that’s it. He doesn’t want to hold her back. Compromises are just part of marriage, he tells himself.

“Oh,” he replies. “That’s okay. Hey, well, I could invite some of ‘em over tonight. I know Charles would definitely come on short notice.”

“Right, that’s the thing,” Amy says tentatively, and takes a nervous gulp of her coffee. “There aren’t any flights for tomorrow morning, so I had to book one for ten tonight. I’m sorry, Jake.”

Jake doesn’t give her the chance to continue because he stands immediately, tugging his hand away from hers abruptly.

His coffee spills over and stains his shoes but he doesn’t give a shit because he’s seething all of a sudden, and he has no fucking clue why – it’s just so _maddening,_ it is, that she comes home for a few hours and then, just like that, she’s off again – back to Washington, to her big office with her big dreams and her big ideas.

“What the hell, Amy!” he bursts, and it’s practically shouting. Amy stands, too, looking like she wants to say something, but he steamrolls over it: “We finally get a day that works for both of us, and you’re not even going to stay for more than twelve hours? No, fuck, no, you don’t _have_ to go to that stupid gala. You could absolutely stay here. You could! I know it, you know it. But you just care so much more about your goddamn job, don’t you?”

“Jake – ”

“No, you know what? What’s the fucking point of trying if you don’t even want it to work?”

The silence that follows his words is deafening and Amy looks terrified and Jake hates her. Or himself. Or anything and everything and nothing, all at once.

He doesn’t have a clue how he feels as he storms away and spends the day sitting by himself on a bench outside the precinct. She leaves again without saying goodbye.

 

 **OCTOBER 2, 2015** _(4)_

“Yes,” Amy says over the phone, breathless and excited.

She puts a hand in Jake’s and squeezes it for support, absolute elation flashing across her face.

“Yes, alright, I can start on the twentieth. Okay. I’ll see you then.”

She hangs up the phone and Jake immediately picks her up by the waist, spinning her around in the cheesiest way possible. Amy laughs and slings her arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his face, an outlet for all the feelings that swirl in her at this exact moment, like she could fly for real.

“I did it,” she manages to get out as he stops and lets her down. “I did it! I got the job!”

“Captain Santiago,” Jake says, and puts both hands on her face. “I never doubted for a second, you know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Amy replies, out of breath, pulling him closer. “I’m amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he repeats, and kisses her with both hands on her face like they do in the movies as the afternoon sun filters through the window and bathes them in golden light.

“You’re amazing,” Jake says, over and over again, happier than she is, probably – although that’s a very competitive category. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Amy counters, and Jake laughs.

“If you say so.”

“Oh, yeah, Jake?”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot and … I think we should move in together.”

The smile on his face is the goofiest and brightest and most _Jake_ thing she’s ever seen, more brilliant than all the sunlight in the world combined. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Amy affirms, and laughs breathlessly because she’s so happy that she’s exploding with it, absolutely overflowing with it. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

 

 **JULY 27, 2019** _(12)_

“Okay, so don’t say anything wrong to anyone,” Amy instructs him as she does his tie, looking elegant and put-together and the perfect party host. “Don’t make any jokes that a twelve-year-old kid would find funny and we’ll be fine.”

“Got it,” Jake says, and smiles. “You look beautiful.”

She smiles back at him, a fleeting thing. “You ready?”

“Totes.”

“Don’t say that either,” Amy says, and right on cue, the doorbell rings. She opens the front door and immediately they’re swamped by party guests, most of them surrounding her or waiting their turn to speak to her, which Jake can understand; she’s been in the papers recently, after all, after shutting down one of the city’s most notorious drug rings.

A woman a few years older than Captain Holt looks over at him and smiles politely. He smiles politely back, the kind of smile that Amy has taught him to perfect, not goofy and flamboyant and over-the-top like what he’s used to.

“You must be so proud of her,” the woman says.

“I am,” Jake replies, not quite knowing what to do with his hands. He watches as Amy laughs and charms their guests (or, well, they’re more like her guests, since he knows almost none of the people here). “She’s a great captain.”

“Yes,” the woman replies, and takes a sip of champagne. “It must be hard to live in her shadow.”

“It isn’t,” Jake says. “She’s way better than I am. I’m fully aware of that.”

Polite laughter as the woman moves away, finding an opening in which to converse with Amy. Jake looks on, quiet and unassuming, standing by the stairwell.

He really _is_ proud of her, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter how much success she finds, because it’s never been what he wanted, anyway – she’s always been much more driven than him. And she’s amazing, she is, and deserves every bit of success that comes to her.

(It would feel pretty good not to constantly be referred to as ‘Amy Santiago’s husband’, though.)

 

 **DECEMBER 24, 2015** _(5)_

Usually, Jake loves the snow, but after a dismal and boring day at work (on Christmas Eve, for god’s sake), the only thing he’s really looking forward to taking a long bath and feeling sorry for himself all evening. Christmas loses its flavor after you’re forced to work through piles of paperwork for hours on end.

The house is dark when he opens the door, and he assumes Amy isn’t home yet – she’s captaining her own precinct now, after all, and must be even busier than he is. But as soon as the door closes, the house’s lights flicker on – and those aren’t the only ones.

Christmas lights – red and blue and yellow and green and every other color you could possibly imagine - are draped across the house’s walls, scattered across the floors, glowing and beautiful. Jake stops for a second, entertains the possibility that they have been raided by a _very_ festive burglar, but then Amy comes down the stairwell and smiles sheepishly at him, wearing a Santa hat.

Jake has to laugh, because she looks ridiculous, but in the best way possible – he meets her at the bottom of the stairs.

“You did all this?”

“Duh.”

“But it’s so messy,” Jake teases, unable to resist the urge to get one little jab in. “All those lights – I’m surprised you didn’t take exact measurements.”

“I like to think of it as organized chaos,” Amy counters, and beams. “You like it?”

“Go off, Santiago, I love it,” Jake says. “And I love you.”

He’s said it to her before, but she’s never said it to him, which he’s fine with, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at her right now that makes her heart beat faster as she takes his face in her hands and kisses him, grinning against his lips and glowing more than the lights around them combined.

“I’m so lucky,” she breathes, pulling away just the tiniest bit, so little space between them that with every plosive her lips still brush his. “I’m so lucky to be in love with you.”

Jake can’t stop laughing as he takes her into his arms.

 

 **JUNE 21, 2018** _(10)_

“Hey!” Amy says, grinning into the camera. “I can see you!”

“Cool, my webcam isn’t broken from all those times I tried to get on America’s Funniest Home Videos,” Jake mumbles through a mouthful of cereal, grinning back.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching football and eating Cheerios. And missing you very much.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“Look at you, in your pantsuit and your giant office. How’s it going?”

“Washington is exhausting,” Amy groans, and it makes Jake laugh. “I’ll be back in a week, though, thank God.”

“Wouldn’t want to spend too long there,” Jake says jokingly, swallowing. “Then you might forget about me.”

“Never,” Amy maintains, smiling gently. “I could never forget _you,_ Detective Peralta.”

“ _Detective Peralta?_ Oh, man, I bet you’ve forgotten my first name already. Damn it.”

“Shut up.”

Jake laughs and takes a sip of orange juice. “You’re just jealous because I have a day off and you have to work your tall butt off every waking minute.”

“It pays the bills.”

“So does busting criminals for drug possession, which I did yesterday. Checkmate. Your move.”

“Do you even know how to play chess?”

“If it’s as easy as proving you wrong, then yes, I’m practically a master at it.”

“Mm,” Amy hums skeptically, and her smile fades a little as she looks up and has a conversation with someone Jake can’t hear. She looks back down at her camera and looks apologetic.

“Oh,” Jake interrupts. “You have a meeting or whatever.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You gotta do what you gotta do, am I right?”

“That’s certainly a concise way of putting it.”

“Nerd.” He blows a kiss at her through the camera. “Talk tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Amy says, and waves as she ends the call.

 

 **JULY 18, 2016** _(7)_

The roof where they did that stakeout the night of their infamous sort-of-but-not-really-first date hasn’t changed at all. Most roofs don’t, after all. Jake puts his hands in his pockets and huffs, watching his breath come out in the form of mist as Amy stands next to him.

“Okay, so what did you want to show me?”

“I love you,” Amy blurts out, and Jake looks over at her in mingled amusement and surprise, a teasing remark ready on his tongue, but it disappears instantly as she gets down on one knee awkwardly, fumbling with a small box that opens to reveal a ring.

“Oh,” Jake says instead, in a small voice that doesn’t quite belong to him, heart in his throat. “Oh, my God.”

“I just – I had this entire speech planned, but – I just – I don’t think – ”

“Breathe,” Jake says soothingly, and she seems to calm down. If only he could follow his own advice; his breath is coming in short, shallow bursts.

“I just wanted to let you know that I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone,” Amy says, and Jake’s heart does cartwheels. “I can’t imagine spending a life without you by my side. Marry me.”

Jake lets out a long, quiet breath, gathering his thoughts.

“Do I have to change my name to Jake Santiago if you’re the one proposing?” he says, almost inaudible, nearly unable to speak due to all the feelings swirling about inside him. “Because that’s kind of a deal breaker.”

And that’s his way of saying yes, she knows; Amy grins and slides the band onto his finger, standing and instantly being enveloped in his arms as he kisses her and tears inexplicably slide down her cheeks, because finally, finally, this thing that they’ve been working on – she hasn’t been more sure about anything in her entire life, and she wants to take this journey with Jake. Nobody else but Jake.

“Please promise me one thing,” Jake breathes out as he pulls away and they stand, forehead to forehead, on the very roof where Amy fell in love with him, even if she didn’t know it at the time (and for a while afterwards.)

“Anything.”

“Please be patient,” Jake whispers, clutching onto her desperately and memorizing every detail of her face, looking like he might be scared that this is actually a fanciful dream. “I’m not – I’m not like you. Please don’t leave me behind.”

“Never,” Amy whispers back. “Never. I promise.”

 

 **SEPTEMBER 12, 2017** _(9)_

“Hey, Jake?”

“Hi,” he says over the phone. “When are you coming home?”

“Hopefully in an hour or two,” Amy replies, only half-paying attention; the papers in front of her aren’t going to fill themselves out. “I really am swamped. There’s just so much going on, y’know?”

“Oh,” Jake says, and the clock beeps – 11 PM. “Okay.”

 

 **SEPTEMBER 12, 2017** _(8)_

“I’ll be back by nine tonight, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

 

 **FEBRUARY 4, 2016** _(6)_

“Really? You’re giving that one to Rosa?”

“Well,” the captain says snippily, looking down at her laptop, not even bothering to look up at him while they’re having the conversation. “Maybe if your girlfriend’s precinct didn’t steal so many of our cases, we’d have enough to go around. But, as it is, you’re going on the bench for this one.”

“That’s so unfair – ”

“It’s not my business, Detective Peralta. Cases are randomly assigned.”

“No, they aren’t, and you’ve made that stupidly clear,” Jake mutters, and leaves before she can reprimand him any further.

He throws himself down into his chair, burying his head in his hands and staring down at the boringly repetitive paperwork that sits before him.

This is really _so_ unfair.

Granted, Amy’s precinct has been doing very well in the past few months – as expected, under Amy’s leadership – and many other precincts’ cases have been claimed by her detectives, which, of course, doesn’t sit well with any other captain. Especially the Nine-Nine’s new captain, who seems to have an especial grudge against Amy.

And no, Jake would _never_ regret being romantically involved with Amy – not in a million years, no, never, never – but living in her shadow can get quite exhausting.

It’s not her fault, he knows, it’s the fault of his captain, but for one thing, she’s a _good_ police captain (other than the obvious bias that nobody can actually prove), and she doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon, so there isn’t much else Jake can do but work harder in the hopes that she’ll reward him based on his own merit.

It’s exhausting. God, it is _exhausting._

But he thinks of Amy and he knows how he feels, he _knows,_ and he loves her so much that he couldn’t possibly ask her to sacrifice her own success in favor of his comfort.

 

 **OCTOBER 19, 2018** _(11)_

His suit lies discarded on the floor of their bedroom as she strides across the room to glare at him up close, the epitome of anger, seething with rage for reasons that she can’t quite comprehend. His jaw clenches as Amy says, frustration ringing in every icy syllable.

“Jake, you’re being stupid.”

“You’re used to that, right?” Jake says, and it chips away at her psyche, little by little. “You’re used to me being stupid and you being the mature one. It makes you feel healthier.”

“Oh my God,” Amy exclaims, and throws her hands up. “No, Jake, you aren’t stupid! You’re just _acting_ stupid.”

“What a distinction!”

“You are being _so_ stupid, Jake, just listen to yourself, for God’s sake – ”

“No, no, it’s okay, I know what I mean to you,” Jake yells, and it’s like a burst of rage that makes Amy jump a little. “You’re the one who’s rising meteorically and whatever the fuck the paper published about you – and I’m just stuck in the job I’ve had for fifteen years. Yeah, okay, I know! I know! You’re _way_ better than I am.”

And suddenly all Amy can see is red, obscuring her vision entirely, and she can’t stop herself from blurting out: “Well, maybe if you actually _gave_ a shit, you’d be able to get to where I am! You can’t expect me to wait around for you for-fucking-ever, Jake! I’m going to leave you behind one day, and it’s going to be beyond my control, okay?”

The silence is _deafening._ Jake reels back as though struck, looking as though his heart has split in two pieces, and Amy immediately regrets it, tears welling up in her eyes as he stares at her indignantly, absolutely lost for words.

“Oh my God,” Amy manages, and puts a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Jake, you know I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

But it doesn’t matter how sorry she is, because the door is already closing behind him.

 

 **SEPTEMBER 30, 2015** _(3)_

Her feet are in his lap as she does the crossword puzzle on the newspaper and Jake looks through an old yearbook from his senior year of high school. He lets out a little giggle as Amy fills in the word _alveoli_ and looks up at him quizzically.

“Look at this,” Jake says, and shows her Gina’s senior quote.

 _‘no’ –romeo and juliet,_ it says.

“You know Gina had a pregnancy scare in senior year?” Jake adds. Amy lets out a little laugh.

“That’s not surprising at all.”

“Yeah. She was pretty scared about it, even if she didn’t want to show it. Went to an abortion clinic and everything. False alarm, though.”

Jake stares down contemplatively at the yearbook as Amy pauses in her filling out of the crossword and looks up at him, ready for more of his somewhat tragic backstory.

“It kind of made me think, y’know? That’s not what I want to do with my life. Just – a boring life, working at a convenience store, eventually getting enough money to raise a family. Or, like, marrying a very rich widow or something. Whatever works. That’s what made me want to be a cop. I want to do some good with my life. Something special.”

Amy smiles at him and puts a hand on his. “And all because of Gina’s pregnancy scare.”

Jake snorts and looks over at her. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Doesn’t that mean that technically, Gina is the reason we met?”

“Oh, God. Don’t ever tell her that. She’d use that to get, like, a billion favors out of us.”

“Never.”

 

 **NOVEMBER 17, 2019** _(13)_

The ticking of the clock is steady and unending and the only thing Amy can hear as she sits in the darkened office. Washington is never quiet at night, but something about how unusually silent it is today is oddly ominous. She swallows a little as she looks down at the contract lying on her desk.

A promotion.

It’s everything she’s ever wanted.

This is what she’s been working towards, isn’t it? What she’s always wanted, more than anything in the world?

“Summer,” she’d told him. “I’ll be back in summer.”

 _Early 2021,_ the contract says.

 _Possibly a permanent relocation,_ it adds, further down.

Jake’s face swirls in her mind, but something in Amy’s mind pushes it to the side in favor of this, this contract – the only thing standing in the way of her and her lifelong dream. Her heart is in her throat as she picks up the pen lying next to the paper, hesitating to sign it as she puts the tip of the pen to the paper but doesn’t make any move to sign her name.

She has to go visit Jake tomorrow. She already hasn’t told him about the gala that she has to attend the day after, and telling him about this promotion – it might just be too much at once. She could hold out. She could choose not to sign it until she and Jake could talk it over properly, face to face.

But there are also many other qualified people that could do this job. Any number of people that could absolutely replace her if she doesn’t sign this now. Amy breathes in, breathes out.

 _Breathe,_ she remembers him saying any time she gets too nervous, and it calms her.

She signs the contract, each stroke flowing easily, without hesitation, and resolves not to tell Jake about it until it becomes absolutely necessary. Everything is sliding out of balance and she has no clue how to stop it, absolutely none – it’s just beyond her control.

That’s it. It’s over. It’s done. She can do this.

 

 **MAY 17, 2015** _(2)_

The light on Jake’s ceiling is blindingly bright and very cheap, but he doesn’t care – he’s numb with happiness that spreads across him and through his bones like burning hot frost.

Amy, Amy, Amy.

The only thing in his mind, thrumming like a drumbeat, perfectly in tune with his heartbeat – her name, like a prayer, a mantra that he never wants to stop repeating. Their kiss in the lock-up plays in his mind, over and over, and he clutches onto it, trying desperately to believe that it’s not really a dream.

And it’s not, oh, it’s not, how wonderful! He kissed Amy and Amy kissed him and it really happened, it really _happened._

This is nothing compared to the nights he’s lain awake _thinking_ about kissing her. It’s every bit as beautiful as he ever imagined, and he loves it. He loves _her._

Yes, he does – he loves her. What a thought. What a terrifyingly incredible thought, that he loves her – this woman that he’s known for so long and never paid enough attention to. In retrospect, he’s loved her for the longest time, perhaps since the moment they met, but it hasn’t ever quite clicked until right now, right in this moment.

All he can think of is her and her smile and all the possibilities, everything in front of them – all the things that they will and won’t do, all the things that he’ll welcome with open arms.

As long as she’s by his side, he won’t be complaining.

 

 **MAY 16, 2020** _(15)_

There are tears dripping onto the paper, smudging the ink and rendering some parts illegible, but she doesn’t care. If she doesn’t write this right now, she may never be able to muster the strength to do it again.

 _I’m sorry,_ flows from her pen, and she means it – every little scratch of ink on paper claws at her already guilty conscience, knocking breath from her lungs. _It was beyond my control._

She’s told so many lies, so many, to stop him from worrying, but if ever there was a time to spill her heart to him, this is it. Amy Santiago is not a woman who improvises her life decisions, but this letter is something that can’t be planned – all she can do is close her eyes and let her feelings guide the words that she’s going to use to walk away from the love of her life.

It aches at her, a numbness that spreads through her like wildfire, as she signs the letter and stands, grabbing the suitcase that contains the last of her possessions.

They tried, oh, they tried as hard as they could, but he could never see how hard it was for her and she could never rescue him and the only possible thing she can see ahead right now is the end of their relationship. It’s burning, she’s hurting, and she can’t face the inevitable fallout ahead.

The door clicks behind her, an ominous thing, as she puts her copy of the key under the doormat and walks away from the only thing she’s ever been completely sure of, one-way ticket to Washington in hand.

As she reaches the end of the street, Amy chances one last glance back at the house, and its windows are dark and empty.

 


	2. cut through these strings and open my wings - chronological

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY so this is a chronological version bc i've gotten some messages asking for one!
> 
> note that this doesn't have nearly the same kind of impact as reading it in the original non-linear order

**MAY 17, 2015** _(1)_

The light on Amy’s ceiling is flickering slightly, as it sometimes does, and usually she’d fix it as rigorously and thoroughly as she’s used to doing things, but all she can do is smile, bright and unassuming, numb with joy.

Jake, Jake, Jake.

The only thing she can think about is him, oh, gosh, how pathetic is that? They’ve worked together for years, and if you told her a few years ago that she’d be grinning into her bedsheets at the thought of kissing him, she’d probably laugh. And arrest you for possible drug possession.

Their kiss in the lock-up plays in her mind, over and over and over again. She relives it as many times as possible (for thoroughness, obviously) just in case there’s something, some sign that it wasn’t real, but it was _real._ He kissed her and she kissed him and oh! What a wonderful thought, that they finally did it. They got the timing right, for the first time.

There was Teddy and then there was Sophia and then there was them, just the two of them, in the low light, and her arms had been around his neck. How wonderful, how bright, what a beautiful thought.

She feels a little bit guilty, that she hasn’t paid more mind to the matter of Captain Holt and Gina leaving, but she feels all-consumed by him, as stupid as it sounds; for the first time in her life, Amy isn’t overthinking anything. All she knows is how she feels.

And, really, there’s no way to analyze that.

 

 **MAY 17, 2015** _(2)_

The light on Jake’s ceiling is blindingly bright and very cheap, but he doesn’t care – he’s numb with happiness that spreads across him and through his bones like burning hot frost.

Amy, Amy, Amy.

The only thing in his mind, thrumming like a drumbeat, perfectly in tune with his heartbeat – her name, like a prayer, a mantra that he never wants to stop repeating. Their kiss in the lock-up plays in his mind, over and over, and he clutches onto it, trying desperately to believe that it’s not really a dream.

And it’s not, oh, it’s not, how wonderful! He kissed Amy and Amy kissed him and it really happened, it really _happened._

This is nothing compared to the nights he’s lain awake _thinking_ about kissing her. It’s every bit as beautiful as he ever imagined, and he loves it. He loves _her._

Yes, he does – he loves her. What a thought. What a terrifyingly incredible thought, that he loves her – this woman that he’s known for so long and never paid enough attention to. In retrospect, he’s loved her for the longest time, perhaps since the moment they met, but it hasn’t ever quite clicked until right now, right in this moment.

All he can think of is her and her smile and all the possibilities, everything in front of them – all the things that they will and won’t do, all the things that he’ll welcome with open arms.

As long as she’s by his side, he won’t be complaining.

 

 **SEPTEMBER 30, 2015** _(3)_

Her feet are in his lap as she does the crossword puzzle in the newspaper and Jake looks through an old yearbook from his senior year of high school. He lets out a little giggle as Amy fills in the word _alveoli_ and looks up at him quizzically.

“Look at this,” Jake says, and shows her Gina’s senior quote.

 _‘no’ –romeo and juliet,_ it says.

“You know Gina had a pregnancy scare in senior year?” Jake adds. Amy lets out a little laugh.

“That’s not surprising at all.”

“Yeah. She was pretty scared about it, even if she didn’t want to show it. Went to an abortion clinic and everything. False alarm, though.”

Jake stares down contemplatively at the yearbook as Amy pauses in her filling out of the crossword and looks up at him, ready for more of his somewhat tragic backstory.

“It kind of made me think, y’know? That’s not what I want to do with my life. Just – a boring life, working at a convenience store, eventually getting enough money to raise a family. Or, like, marrying a very rich widow or something. Whatever works. That’s what made me want to be a cop. I want to do some good with my life. Something special.”

Amy smiles at him and puts a hand on his. “And all because of Gina’s pregnancy scare.”

Jake snorts and looks over at her. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Doesn’t that mean that technically, Gina is the reason we met?”

“Oh, God. Don’t ever tell her that. She’d use that to get, like, a billion favors out of us.”

“Never.”

 

 **OCTOBER 2, 2015** _(4)_

“Yes,” Amy says over the phone, breathless and excited.

She puts a hand in Jake’s and squeezes it for support, absolute elation flashing across her face.

“Yes, alright, I can start on the twentieth. Okay. I’ll see you then.”

She hangs up the phone and Jake immediately picks her up by the waist, spinning her around in the cheesiest way possible. Amy laughs and slings her arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his face, an outlet for all the feelings that swirl in her at this exact moment, like she could fly for real.

“I did it,” she manages to get out as he stops and lets her down. “I did it! I got the job!”

“Captain Santiago,” Jake says, and puts both hands on her face. “I never doubted for a second, you know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Amy replies, out of breath, pulling him closer. “I’m amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he repeats, and kisses her with both hands on her face like they do in the movies as the afternoon sun filters through the window and bathes them in golden light.

“You’re amazing,” Jake says, over and over again, happier than she is, probably – although that’s a very competitive category. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Amy counters, and Jake laughs.

“If you say so.”

“Oh, yeah, Jake?”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot and … I think we should move in together.”

The smile on his face is the goofiest and brightest and most _Jake_ thing she’s ever seen, more brilliant than all the sunlight in the world combined. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Amy affirms, and laughs breathlessly because she’s so happy that she’s exploding with it, absolutely overflowing with it. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

 

 **DECEMBER 24, 2015** _(5)_

Usually, Jake loves the snow, but after a dismal and boring day at work (on Christmas Eve, for god’s sake), the only thing he’s really looking forward to taking a long bath and feeling sorry for himself all evening. Christmas loses its flavor after you’re forced to work through piles of paperwork for hours on end.

The house is dark when he opens the door, and he assumes Amy isn’t home yet – she’s captaining her own precinct now, after all, and must be even busier than he is. But as soon as the door closes, the house’s lights flicker on – and those aren’t the only ones.

Christmas lights – red and blue and yellow and green and every other color you could possibly imagine - are draped across the house’s walls, scattered across the floors, glowing and beautiful. Jake stops for a second, entertains the possibility that they have been raided by a _very_ festive burglar, but then Amy comes down the stairwell and smiles sheepishly at him, wearing a Santa hat.

Jake has to laugh, because she looks ridiculous, but in the best way possible – he meets her at the bottom of the stairs.

“You did all this?”

“Duh.”

“But it’s so messy,” Jake teases, unable to resist the urge to get one little jab in. “All those lights – I’m surprised you didn’t take exact measurements.”

“I like to think of it as organized chaos,” Amy counters, and beams. “You like it?”

“Go off, Santiago, I love it,” Jake says. “And I love you.”

He’s said it to her before, but she’s never said it to him, which he’s fine with, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at her right now that makes her heart beat faster as she takes his face in her hands and kisses him, grinning against his lips and glowing more than the lights around them combined.

“I’m so lucky,” she breathes, pulling away just the tiniest bit, so little space between them that with every plosive her lips still brush his. “I’m so lucky to be in love with you.”

Jake can’t stop laughing as he takes her into his arms.

 

 **FEBRUARY 4, 2016** _(6)_

“Really? You’re giving that one to Rosa?”

“Well,” the captain says snippily, looking down at her laptop, not even bothering to look up at him while they’re having the conversation. “Maybe if your girlfriend’s precinct didn’t steal so many of our cases, we’d have enough to go around. But, as it is, you’re going on the bench for this one.”

“That’s so unfair – ”

“It’s not my business, Detective Peralta. Cases are randomly assigned.”

“No, they aren’t, and you’ve made that stupidly clear,” Jake mutters, and leaves before she can reprimand him any further.

He throws himself down into his chair, burying his head in his hands and staring down at the boringly repetitive paperwork that sits before him.

This is really _so_ unfair.

Granted, Amy’s precinct has been doing very well in the past few months – as expected, under Amy’s leadership – and many other precincts’ cases have been claimed by her detectives, which, of course, doesn’t sit well with any other captain. Especially the Nine-Nine’s new captain, who seems to have an especial grudge against Amy.

And no, Jake would _never_ regret being romantically involved with Amy – not in a million years, no, never, never – but living in her shadow can get quite exhausting.

It’s not her fault, he knows, it’s the fault of his captain, but for one thing, she’s a _good_ police captain (other than the obvious bias that nobody can actually prove), and she doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon, so there isn’t much else Jake can do but work harder in the hopes that she’ll reward him based on his own merit.

It’s exhausting. God, it is _exhausting._

But he thinks of Amy and he knows how he feels, he _knows,_ and he loves her so much that he couldn’t possibly ask her to sacrifice her own success in favor of his comfort.

 

 **JULY 18, 2016** _(7)_

The roof where they did that stakeout the night of their infamous sort-of-but-not-really-first date hasn’t changed at all. Most roofs don’t, after all. Jake puts his hands in his pockets and huffs, watching his breath come out in the form of mist as Amy stands next to him.

“Okay, so what did you want to show me?”

“I love you,” Amy blurts out, and Jake looks over at her in mingled amusement and surprise, a teasing remark ready on his tongue, but it disappears instantly as she gets down on one knee awkwardly, fumbling with a small box that opens to reveal a ring.

“Oh,” Jake says instead, in a small voice that doesn’t quite belong to him, heart in his throat. “Oh, my God.”

“I just – I had this entire speech planned, but – I just – I don’t think – ”

“Breathe,” Jake says soothingly, and she seems to calm down. If only he could follow his own advice; his breath is coming in short, shallow bursts.

“I just wanted to let you know that I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone,” Amy says, and Jake’s heart does cartwheels. “I can’t imagine spending a life without you by my side. Marry me.”

Jake lets out a long, quiet breath, gathering his thoughts.

“Do I have to change my name to Jake Santiago if you’re the one proposing?” he says, almost inaudible, nearly unable to speak due to all the feelings swirling about inside him. “Because that’s kind of a deal breaker.”

And that’s his way of saying yes, she knows; Amy grins and slides the band onto his finger, standing and instantly being enveloped in his arms as he kisses her and tears inexplicably slide down her cheeks, because finally, finally, this thing that they’ve been working on – she hasn’t been more sure about anything in her entire life, and she wants to take this journey with Jake. Nobody else but Jake.

“Please promise me one thing,” Jake breathes out as he pulls away and they stand, forehead to forehead, on the very roof where Amy fell in love with him, even if she didn’t know it at the time (and for a while afterwards.)

“Anything.”

“Please be patient,” Jake whispers, clutching onto her desperately and memorizing every detail of her face, looking like he might be scared that this is actually a fanciful dream. “I’m not – I’m not like you. Please don’t leave me behind.”

“Never,” Amy whispers back. “Never. I promise.”

 

 **SEPTEMBER 12, 2017** _(8)_

“I’ll be back by nine tonight, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

 

 **SEPTEMBER 12, 2017** _(9)_

“Hey, Jake?”

“Hi,” he says over the phone. “When are you coming home?”

“Hopefully in an hour or two,” Amy replies, only half-paying attention; the papers in front of her aren’t going to fill themselves out. “I really am swamped. There’s just so much going on, y’know?”

“Oh,” Jake says, and the clock beeps – 11 PM. “Okay.”

 

 **JUNE 21, 2018** _(10)_

“Hey!” Amy says, grinning into the camera. “I can see you!”

“Cool, my webcam isn’t broken from all those times I tried to get on America’s Funniest Home Videos,” Jake mumbles through a mouthful of cereal, grinning back.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching football and eating Cheerios. And missing you very much.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“Look at you, in your pantsuit and your giant office. How’s it going?”

“Washington is exhausting,” Amy groans, and it makes Jake laugh. “I’ll be back in a week, though, thank God.”

“Wouldn’t want to spend too long there,” Jake says jokingly, swallowing. “Then you might forget about me.”

“Never,” Amy maintains, smiling gently. “I could never forget _you,_ Detective Peralta.”

“ _Detective Peralta?_ Oh, man, I bet you’ve forgotten my first name already. Damn it.”

“Shut up.”

Jake laughs and takes a sip of orange juice. “You’re just jealous because I have a day off and you have to work your tall butt off every waking minute.”

“It pays the bills.”

“So does busting criminals for drug possession, which I did yesterday. Checkmate. Your move.”

“Do you even know how to play chess?”

“If it’s as easy as proving you wrong, then yes, I’m practically a master at it.”

“Mm,” Amy hums skeptically, and her smile fades a little as she looks up and has a conversation with someone Jake can’t hear. She looks back down at her camera and looks apologetic.

“Oh,” Jake interrupts. “You have a meeting or whatever.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You gotta do what you gotta do, am I right?”

“That’s certainly a concise way of putting it.”

“Nerd.” He blows a kiss at her through the camera. “Talk tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Amy says, and waves as she ends the call.

 

 **OCTOBER 19, 2018** _(11)_

His suit lies discarded on the floor of their bedroom as she strides across the room to glare at him up close, the epitome of anger, seething with rage for reasons that she can’t quite comprehend. His jaw clenches as Amy says, frustration ringing in every icy syllable.

“Jake, you’re being stupid.”

“You’re used to that, right?” Jake says, and it chips away at her psyche, little by little. “You’re used to me being stupid and you being the mature one. It makes you feel healthier.”

“Oh my God,” Amy exclaims, and throws her hands up. “No, Jake, you aren’t stupid! You’re just _acting_ stupid.”

“What a distinction!”

“You are being _so_ stupid, Jake, just listen to yourself, for God’s sake – ”

“No, no, it’s okay, I know what I mean to you,” Jake yells, and it’s like a burst of rage that makes Amy jump a little. “You’re the one who’s rising meteorically and whatever the fuck the paper published about you – and I’m just stuck in the job I’ve had for fifteen years. Yeah, okay, I know! I know! You’re _way_ better than I am.”

And suddenly all Amy can see is red, obscuring her vision entirely, and she can’t stop herself from blurting out: “Well, maybe if you actually _gave_ a shit, you’d be able to get to where I am! You can’t expect me to wait around for you for-fucking-ever, Jake! I’m going to leave you behind one day, and it’s going to be beyond my control, okay?”

The silence is _deafening._ Jake reels back as though struck, looking as though his heart has split in two pieces, and Amy immediately regrets it, tears welling up in her eyes as he stares at her indignantly, absolutely lost for words.

“Oh my God,” Amy manages, and puts a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Jake, you know I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

But it doesn’t matter how sorry she is, because the door is already closing behind him.

 

 **JULY 27, 2019** _(12)_

“Okay, so don’t say anything wrong to anyone,” Amy instructs him as she does his tie, looking elegant and put-together and the perfect party host. “Don’t make any jokes that a twelve-year-old kid would find funny and we’ll be fine.”

“Got it,” Jake says, and smiles. “You look beautiful.”

She smiles back at him, a fleeting thing. “You ready?”

“Totes.”

“Don’t say that either,” Amy says, and right on cue, the doorbell rings. She opens the front door and immediately they’re swamped by party guests, most of them surrounding her or waiting their turn to speak to her, which Jake can understand; she’s been in the papers recently, after all, after shutting down one of the city’s most notorious drug rings.

A woman a few years older than Captain Holt looks over at him and smiles politely. He smiles politely back, the kind of smile that Amy has taught him to perfect, not goofy and flamboyant and over-the-top like what he’s used to.

“You must be so proud of her,” the woman says.

“I am,” Jake replies, not quite knowing what to do with his hands. He watches as Amy laughs and charms their guests (or, well, they’re more like her guests, since he knows almost none of the people here). “She’s a great captain.”

“Yes,” the woman replies, and takes a sip of champagne. “It must be hard to live in her shadow.”

“It isn’t,” Jake says. “She’s way better than I am. I’m fully aware of that.”

Polite laughter as the woman moves away, finding an opening in which to converse with Amy. Jake looks on, quiet and unassuming, standing by the stairwell.

He really _is_ proud of her, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter how much success she finds, because it’s never been what he wanted, anyway – she’s always been much more driven than him. And she’s amazing, she is, and deserves every bit of success that comes to her.

(It would feel pretty good not to constantly be referred to as ‘Amy Santiago’s husband’, though.)

 

 **NOVEMBER 17, 2019** _(13)_

The ticking of the clock is steady and unending and the only thing Amy can hear as she sits in the darkened office. Washington is never quiet at night, but something about how unusually silent it is today is oddly ominous. She swallows a little as she looks down at the contract lying on her desk.

A promotion.

It’s everything she’s ever wanted.

This is what she’s been working towards, isn’t it? What she’s always wanted, more than anything in the world?

“Summer,” she’d told him. “I’ll be back in summer.”

 _Early 2021,_ the contract says.

 _Possibly a permanent relocation,_ it adds, further down.

Jake’s face swirls in her mind, but something in Amy’s mind pushes it to the side in favor of this, this contract – the only thing standing in the way of her and her lifelong dream. Her heart is in her throat as she picks up the pen lying next to the paper, hesitating to sign it as she puts the tip of the pen to the paper but doesn’t make any move to sign her name.

She has to go visit Jake tomorrow. She already hasn’t told him about the gala that she has to attend the day after, and telling him about this promotion – it might just be too much at once. She could hold out. She could choose not to sign it until she and Jake could talk it over properly, face to face.

But there are also many other qualified people that could do this job. Any number of people that could absolutely replace her if she doesn’t sign this now. Amy breathes in, breathes out.

 _Breathe,_ she remembers him saying any time she gets too nervous, and it calms her.

She signs the contract, each stroke flowing easily, without hesitation, and resolves not to tell Jake about it until it becomes absolutely necessary. Everything is sliding out of balance and she has no clue how to stop it, absolutely none – it’s just beyond her control.

That’s it. It’s over. It’s done. She can do this.

 

 **NOVEMBER 18, 2019** _(14)_

The first time he told her he liked to sit on their roof and look out at the city (and possibly do a Batman impression here and there), she’d laughed. But here they are now, sitting in the afternoon sun under an umbrella she insisted on putting up. (“Sunstroke is not a myth, Jake.”)

Amy is sitting next to him, clutching a coffee in her hand, and there’s something different about the way she’s holding herself. More prim, more proper, looking more serious than usual. There are lines on her face that weren’t there before. The months in Washington have been tough on her, he knows.

But whenever he looks at her, he knows exactly how he feels, and even if it’s not the same inferno that used to burn in his stomach back when – god, how long has it been? Almost five years, he thinks. But he knows how he feels. She makes it easy for him to figure that out.

“You’ll be back in the summer, though,” Jake says, putting a reassuring hand on hers. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine. A few months. That’s all. We’ve been through worse.”

“Yeah,” Amy says, sounding a little detached. “Just a few more months.”

Jake looks over at her and it takes a few moments for him to put a sentence together. “Look, if you’re worried about us, then – don’t be. I know it’s been hard, but I know we can make it work if we try hard enough. We’re Jake and Amy Peralta. We kick ass.”

“They call me Captain Santiago over at the precinct,” Amy says, and manages to smile. “Just so you know.”

“That cuts me deep,” Jake says, and there is a certain amount of levity absent from his tone, but he grins back anyway. “By the way – I told the squad you could drop by tomorrow. I mean, I know we didn’t discuss it, but – ”

“Actually,” Amy cuts in, and markedly avoids his gaze. “There’s this gala thing tomorrow – a really stupid thing, really, I’m sorry – and … I kind of have to be there. It starts at four tomorrow.”

Jake takes a leisurely moment to process the information, because it seems like she’s been going to a lot of galas and meetings and things lately – which isn’t a problem, of course, but – no. There’s no ‘but’. It’s fine, and that’s it. He doesn’t want to hold her back. Compromises are just part of marriage, he tells himself.

“Oh,” he replies. “That’s okay. Hey, well, I could invite some of ‘em over tonight. I know Charles would definitely come on short notice.”

“Right, that’s the thing,” Amy says tentatively, and takes a nervous gulp of her coffee. “There aren’t any flights for tomorrow morning, so I had to book one for ten tonight. I’m sorry, Jake.”

Jake doesn’t give her the chance to continue because he stands immediately, tugging his hand away from hers abruptly.

His coffee spills over and stains his shoes but he doesn’t give a shit because he’s seething all of a sudden, and he has no fucking clue why – it’s just so _maddening,_ it is, that she comes home for a few hours and then, just like that, she’s off again – back to Washington, to her big office with her big dreams and her big ideas.

“What the hell, Amy!” he bursts, and it’s practically shouting. Amy stands, too, looking like she wants to say something, but he steamrolls over it: “We finally get a day that works for both of us, and you’re not even going to stay for more than twelve hours? No, fuck, no, you don’t _have_ to go to that stupid gala. You could absolutely stay here. You could! I know it, you know it. But you just care so much more about your goddamn job, don’t you?”

“Jake – ”

“No, you know what? What’s the fucking point of trying if you don’t even want it to work?”

The silence that follows his words is deafening and Amy looks terrified and Jake hates her. Or himself. Or anything and everything and nothing, all at once.

He doesn’t have a clue how he feels as he storms away and spends the day sitting by himself on a bench outside the precinct. She leaves again without saying goodbye.

 

 **MAY 16, 2020** _(15)_

There are tears dripping onto the paper, smudging the ink and rendering some parts illegible, but she doesn’t care. If she doesn’t write this right now, she may never be able to muster the strength to do it again.

 _I’m sorry,_ flows from her pen, and she means it – every little scratch of ink on paper claws at her already guilty conscience, knocking breath from her lungs. _It was beyond my control._

She’s told so many lies, so many, to stop him from worrying, but if ever there was a time to spill her heart to him, this is it. Amy Santiago is not a woman who improvises her life decisions, but this letter is something that can’t be planned – all she can do is close her eyes and let her feelings guide the words that she’s going to use to walk away from the love of her life.

It aches at her, a numbness that spreads through her like wildfire, as she signs the letter and stands, grabbing the suitcase that contains the last of her possessions.

They tried, oh, they tried as hard as they could, but he could never see how hard it was for her and she could never rescue him and the only possible thing she can see ahead right now is the end of their relationship. It’s burning, she’s hurting, and she can’t face the inevitable fallout ahead.

The door clicks behind her, an ominous thing, as she puts her copy of the key under the doormat and walks away from the only thing she’s ever been completely sure of, one-way ticket to Washington in hand.

As she reaches the end of the street, Amy chances one last glance back at the house, and its windows are dark and empty.

 

 **MAY 16, 2020** _(16)_

The ticking of the clock is steady and unending and the only thing that Jake can hear.

He reads the letter. Reads it, reads it, reads it again. Over and over, darkened eyes flickering across the inked words, hoping that perhaps something will be different the next time around. Over and over and over again. One more time, one more time, maybe something will change this time. Something always changes.

“Repeat it for increased accuracy,” she used to say. “You can’t afford not to be rigorous when you’re playing with live ammo, Jake.”

The ink is smudged with tears that don’t belong to him.

Jake’s heart is in his throat as he reads, disbelief welling up in his chest, trying desperately to wake up from whatever horrible nightmare he’s stuck in.

 _I tried, Jake,_ and oh, god, he can hear her somber voice in his head, reading it out, every icy syllable cutting deeper into his psyche: _I tried, but I just got stuck. We got the timing right once, but maybe that’s all it was ever meant to be._

_Everything just slid out of balance and we couldn’t get it back. It was beyond my control. I’m sorry._

“Beyond your control,” Jake breathes, and can’t find the strength to be indignant or angry or whatever you’re supposed to feel when the love of your life walks away from you, leaving nothing but a hastily penned letter.

“Beyond your control.”

There’s a loud pounding in his ears, persistent and thrumming and clashing with his heartbeat, _dum-dum-dum,_ like something out of one of those trashy horror movies they used to watch together and laugh at when the terrible actress got eaten by one of the similarly terrible zombies. Jake drops the letter onto the desk as though it’s burning him and sits back, staring blankly out of the window.

He should feel _something._

He doesn’t.

His entire body is just numb.

This must be what it really feels like to have your heart broken.


End file.
